J.R. Pearse Nelson's Blog, page 14
November 8, 2013
Giveaway Winner!
Thanks to everyone for your participation in the Fall into Winter Romance giveaway hop over the past week. It's great to meet new people and hear what kinds of romance people read and what keeps them reading romances. Fun, fun, fun!
The giveaway here on my blog was a $15 Amazon gift card. The winner is Amy Bowens!! I've already sent your prize. Enjoy! And THANKS for hopping! :)
The giveaway here on my blog was a $15 Amazon gift card. The winner is Amy Bowens!! I've already sent your prize. Enjoy! And THANKS for hopping! :)
November 1, 2013
Fall Into Winter Romance Giveaway Hop
Welcome to the Fall Into Winter Romance giveaway hop! More than sixty sites are participating, with all sorts of giveaways.
The grand prize giveaway is a $50 Amazon gift card. You can enter for that through this Rafflecopter:
a Rafflecopter giveaway
Please also enter my giveaway of a $15 Amazon gift card by commenting on this post -- and include your email so I can contact you if you're my winner!
The fourth book in my Children of the Sidhe paranormal romance series will be out within days! To share the excitement with you, I'm having a MEGA-FREE event with the first three books free for a Kindle near you, November 2nd through 6th! Check it out, spread the word, and if you read the books -- please, please leave an honest review at your e-retailer so other readers can hear about the Children of the Sidhe. Thank you!
And now a little about my beloved Sidhe stories!
Children of the Sidhe
The Sidhe dwindle. Slow to breed and quick to war, the ages have worn away their numbers. An old enemy threatens Otherworld, fearsome in numbers and in newfound magic. The Sidhe’s unloved part-human children strewn about the mortal world are suddenly their greatest source of hope.
A sneak peak inside Flight, the latest Children of the Sidhe novella…
Nathan Jeffries was not a morning person. As he stirred his first cup of coffee in a window-side booth at the Red Hen Diner, his dark sunglasses were the only thing saving him from the harsh light of day. He took a sip of his heavily creamed and sugared brew, and sighed in relief. The. Best. Coffee. Ever.
Taking a break from work to write his thesis back home in Laurens, South Carolina, at his mother’s old house, had seemed like a good idea at the time. He hadn’t realized how much his schedule kept him on track when he was working. Without that anchor, he got lost in the minutia, and hours – hell, days – seemed to fly by in a rush as he avoided work on the very project that had drawn him back here.
His thesis on the differences in breeding habits between subspecies of hawks in North America had seemed like a good fit for his rural South Carolina roots. Growing up he’d seen many a hawk soaring over open land, and diving for their prey. They’d always struck him as noble. He loved the way they rode the air currents, with minimal movement. They just soared.
For some reason he had trouble finding his bearings since he returned. Maybe it was because the work that drew him to his hometown this time was so opposite of the reason he’d lived here last. His mother’s battle with colon cancer had pulled him back to town for almost a year before she died. He’d itched for campus the entire time, feeling constrained by the small town and the slow pace of life while caring for his ailing mother.
Right after her death he put everything but the furniture in storage and signed over management of the property to a local company. He moved out, and re-enrolled in graduate school. He thought he would mourn better on his own terms, but he still wouldn’t say he was over her death.
Since returning, he’d been going through his mother’s things and setting them straight after his two-year break from the reality of her death. She was never coming back, and now he had to decide what to do with all of her things, not to mention the house itself. The housekeeping didn’t help either. Apartments definitely didn’t take this much work. And despite the fact he’d had a property management company checking up on the place and renting it out when they could, the long-term vacancy had left a lot of repairs waiting for him. It was peaceful to pick up his tools and set to work on something tangible, something that showed him results at the end of a hard day and left his muscles aching from effort instead of tedious deskwork.
Nathan hated deskwork. He was a wildlife biologist because he loved the wild. He was drawn to the outdoors, to doing, to feeling with his own two hands and knowing the world with his own senses. So on the thesis end of things, he’d already wasted nearly a month of his six-month break.
Nathan took another swallow of his coffee, and thought of his desk at home, covered with books all run through with sticky notes and highlighters. Then he looked down at the worn satchel he carried with him. He was drafting his thesis in longhand, because he hated being stuck at the computer. This way he could carry his work with him and jot down the next line or a new train of thought as they occurred to him. This morning he just didn’t feel up to it. He itched for activity, and the woodland trail he’d often hiked as a kid sprang to mind. Maybe observation of the subject of his thesis would turn his mood around.
Nathan bought a sandwich before he left the coffee shop, and walked back home. He grabbed just a few more things. His camera and extra batteries, a water bottle, and a Gerber knife multi-tool. He drove the ten minutes to Laurens County Park and walked a quarter-mile over the grassy fields before he chose a spot close to a copse of oaks and beeches.
He sank to the ground and pulled his notebook out, hoping inspiration would strike. The early December day was partly cloudy and almost sixty degrees, much warmer than he’d grown used to for this time of year. He’d left the house in a dark gray Henley, worn jeans and his favorite hiking boots. No jacket necessary.
The nearly naked trees made it easy to spot his hawks. He could see three from where he sat, at opposite ends of the field, scouring the grass for their next meals. As he watched, the hawk at the north took off from his perch at the top of a beech tree and rose until he was a speck, before diving back into a soar above the field. He dropped again, fast, this time to snatch some small creature from the grass with his talons. The bird retreated to the woodland to enjoy his snack.
Another of the birds had disappeared while he watched the successful hunter. The third watched him from the east. No one else was around, and the day had taken on an uncharacteristic stillness. Suddenly, the hawk leaped from its branch and descended, but where a hawk should have landed, a man appeared instead.
Nathan jumped back, wondering if short sleep and a house haunted by memories of his mother had driven him to hallucinations. Maybe the man had been there all along, and he was just now noticing him. There was something about his eyes, though. Something wild, and all too akin to the hawk who had just been watching him from his oak-top perch.
“Nathan,” the man spoke. “I need to speak with you.”
“Did that really just happen?”
The wild-eyed man took him in, silent. He chose not to respond to the question, and instead said, “You have a special affinity for birds, do you not?”
Nathan nodded, bewildered.
“It is your nature to take to the skies, to the branch. You must join me.”
“What are you talking about? Who are you?”
“I am Nemglan, Lord of the Skies. Your father.”
Nathan took another step back. Nemglan was tall and lean, much like Nathan, with dark blond hair and deep brown eyes – it was like looking in a mirror. “What do you mean, my father? My father died when I was a baby.”
“That’s what your mother told you. The truth is – well, honestly, the truth is complicated and we don’t have time to get into it right now. Follow me.”
“I’m not going to just follow you.” Was he crazy?
“Nathan,” the man burst out in frustration, “Do not argue! You must run! You must join me. Now!”
“I don’t know what you mean. What do you mean join you?”
“You know what you saw. Do I have to speak it?” Nemglan looked over his shoulder, his features stretching in fear.
Nathan felt something break in the air; it felt charged like the silent minutes before a big storm, despite the clear weather.
“RUN!” Nemglan seemed to hover a few inches above the ground, and where he’d been there was suddenly a hawk, the transition too rapid for Nathan to catch, despite the fact he was looking straight at the man (or hawk) who claimed to be his father. And suddenly the hawk Nemglan swooped toward him, nipping his upper arm savagely. Nathan felt something change at the bite, at his resulting fear. He snapped, and suddenly he knew.
Darkness had filled the woods beneath the canopy, as if the branches restrained it from taking over the afternoon. It stretched toward them, and an inky blackness began to seep into the field at its eastern edge.
Nathan cried out. He convulsed and felt his body – change. Then he was flying, everything happening too fast, the hawk chasing at his tail, forcing him on insistently.
They dove into the cover of the woodland at the other end of the field, where the darkness had not yet filled the space between trunks. Nathan’s stomach dropped as they soared between the interwoven limbs of two oaks. He hit the ground and rolled, wing over wing, colliding with the trunk of a tree and coming to rest.
Nemglan appeared in front of him.
Nathan couldn’t speak. He could only thrash his wings, confused that he had wings to begin with. He still knew himself as a man, yet this bird form didn’t feel wrong. He opened his beak slightly in threat. He didn’t trust this man who claimed to be his father, even though the last few minutes told him Nemglan’s claim was probably accurate.
“Don’t worry. You’re through the portal. We lost him. The threat is over, for now.” Nemglan spoke softly, obviously attempting to calm him. His shoulder was dripping blood in a lazy stream; it smelled shockingly appetizing to Nathan, his senses changed and new.
Nathan wasn’t sure what to think. He flapped some more and let out a “caw” that didn’t feel proper at all. When would he change back? Would he change back? He strutted, fretfully, keeping an eye on Nemglan, who stood several paces away, clutching Nathan’s bag.
“I know what you need.” Nemglan’s eyes glittered in the twilit forest. “You need to feel safe. Well, we’re a long way from home, but I do know one place we could go.”
###
Thanks for stopping by! Remember, this is a blog hop!
');
The grand prize giveaway is a $50 Amazon gift card. You can enter for that through this Rafflecopter:
a Rafflecopter giveaway
Please also enter my giveaway of a $15 Amazon gift card by commenting on this post -- and include your email so I can contact you if you're my winner!
The fourth book in my Children of the Sidhe paranormal romance series will be out within days! To share the excitement with you, I'm having a MEGA-FREE event with the first three books free for a Kindle near you, November 2nd through 6th! Check it out, spread the word, and if you read the books -- please, please leave an honest review at your e-retailer so other readers can hear about the Children of the Sidhe. Thank you!
And now a little about my beloved Sidhe stories!
Children of the Sidhe
The Sidhe dwindle. Slow to breed and quick to war, the ages have worn away their numbers. An old enemy threatens Otherworld, fearsome in numbers and in newfound magic. The Sidhe’s unloved part-human children strewn about the mortal world are suddenly their greatest source of hope.
A sneak peak inside Flight, the latest Children of the Sidhe novella…
Nathan Jeffries was not a morning person. As he stirred his first cup of coffee in a window-side booth at the Red Hen Diner, his dark sunglasses were the only thing saving him from the harsh light of day. He took a sip of his heavily creamed and sugared brew, and sighed in relief. The. Best. Coffee. Ever.
Taking a break from work to write his thesis back home in Laurens, South Carolina, at his mother’s old house, had seemed like a good idea at the time. He hadn’t realized how much his schedule kept him on track when he was working. Without that anchor, he got lost in the minutia, and hours – hell, days – seemed to fly by in a rush as he avoided work on the very project that had drawn him back here.
His thesis on the differences in breeding habits between subspecies of hawks in North America had seemed like a good fit for his rural South Carolina roots. Growing up he’d seen many a hawk soaring over open land, and diving for their prey. They’d always struck him as noble. He loved the way they rode the air currents, with minimal movement. They just soared.
For some reason he had trouble finding his bearings since he returned. Maybe it was because the work that drew him to his hometown this time was so opposite of the reason he’d lived here last. His mother’s battle with colon cancer had pulled him back to town for almost a year before she died. He’d itched for campus the entire time, feeling constrained by the small town and the slow pace of life while caring for his ailing mother.
Right after her death he put everything but the furniture in storage and signed over management of the property to a local company. He moved out, and re-enrolled in graduate school. He thought he would mourn better on his own terms, but he still wouldn’t say he was over her death.
Since returning, he’d been going through his mother’s things and setting them straight after his two-year break from the reality of her death. She was never coming back, and now he had to decide what to do with all of her things, not to mention the house itself. The housekeeping didn’t help either. Apartments definitely didn’t take this much work. And despite the fact he’d had a property management company checking up on the place and renting it out when they could, the long-term vacancy had left a lot of repairs waiting for him. It was peaceful to pick up his tools and set to work on something tangible, something that showed him results at the end of a hard day and left his muscles aching from effort instead of tedious deskwork.
Nathan hated deskwork. He was a wildlife biologist because he loved the wild. He was drawn to the outdoors, to doing, to feeling with his own two hands and knowing the world with his own senses. So on the thesis end of things, he’d already wasted nearly a month of his six-month break.
Nathan took another swallow of his coffee, and thought of his desk at home, covered with books all run through with sticky notes and highlighters. Then he looked down at the worn satchel he carried with him. He was drafting his thesis in longhand, because he hated being stuck at the computer. This way he could carry his work with him and jot down the next line or a new train of thought as they occurred to him. This morning he just didn’t feel up to it. He itched for activity, and the woodland trail he’d often hiked as a kid sprang to mind. Maybe observation of the subject of his thesis would turn his mood around.
Nathan bought a sandwich before he left the coffee shop, and walked back home. He grabbed just a few more things. His camera and extra batteries, a water bottle, and a Gerber knife multi-tool. He drove the ten minutes to Laurens County Park and walked a quarter-mile over the grassy fields before he chose a spot close to a copse of oaks and beeches.
He sank to the ground and pulled his notebook out, hoping inspiration would strike. The early December day was partly cloudy and almost sixty degrees, much warmer than he’d grown used to for this time of year. He’d left the house in a dark gray Henley, worn jeans and his favorite hiking boots. No jacket necessary.
The nearly naked trees made it easy to spot his hawks. He could see three from where he sat, at opposite ends of the field, scouring the grass for their next meals. As he watched, the hawk at the north took off from his perch at the top of a beech tree and rose until he was a speck, before diving back into a soar above the field. He dropped again, fast, this time to snatch some small creature from the grass with his talons. The bird retreated to the woodland to enjoy his snack.
Another of the birds had disappeared while he watched the successful hunter. The third watched him from the east. No one else was around, and the day had taken on an uncharacteristic stillness. Suddenly, the hawk leaped from its branch and descended, but where a hawk should have landed, a man appeared instead.
Nathan jumped back, wondering if short sleep and a house haunted by memories of his mother had driven him to hallucinations. Maybe the man had been there all along, and he was just now noticing him. There was something about his eyes, though. Something wild, and all too akin to the hawk who had just been watching him from his oak-top perch.
“Nathan,” the man spoke. “I need to speak with you.”
“Did that really just happen?”
The wild-eyed man took him in, silent. He chose not to respond to the question, and instead said, “You have a special affinity for birds, do you not?”
Nathan nodded, bewildered.
“It is your nature to take to the skies, to the branch. You must join me.”
“What are you talking about? Who are you?”
“I am Nemglan, Lord of the Skies. Your father.”
Nathan took another step back. Nemglan was tall and lean, much like Nathan, with dark blond hair and deep brown eyes – it was like looking in a mirror. “What do you mean, my father? My father died when I was a baby.”
“That’s what your mother told you. The truth is – well, honestly, the truth is complicated and we don’t have time to get into it right now. Follow me.”
“I’m not going to just follow you.” Was he crazy?
“Nathan,” the man burst out in frustration, “Do not argue! You must run! You must join me. Now!”
“I don’t know what you mean. What do you mean join you?”
“You know what you saw. Do I have to speak it?” Nemglan looked over his shoulder, his features stretching in fear.
Nathan felt something break in the air; it felt charged like the silent minutes before a big storm, despite the clear weather.
“RUN!” Nemglan seemed to hover a few inches above the ground, and where he’d been there was suddenly a hawk, the transition too rapid for Nathan to catch, despite the fact he was looking straight at the man (or hawk) who claimed to be his father. And suddenly the hawk Nemglan swooped toward him, nipping his upper arm savagely. Nathan felt something change at the bite, at his resulting fear. He snapped, and suddenly he knew.
Darkness had filled the woods beneath the canopy, as if the branches restrained it from taking over the afternoon. It stretched toward them, and an inky blackness began to seep into the field at its eastern edge.
Nathan cried out. He convulsed and felt his body – change. Then he was flying, everything happening too fast, the hawk chasing at his tail, forcing him on insistently.
They dove into the cover of the woodland at the other end of the field, where the darkness had not yet filled the space between trunks. Nathan’s stomach dropped as they soared between the interwoven limbs of two oaks. He hit the ground and rolled, wing over wing, colliding with the trunk of a tree and coming to rest.
Nemglan appeared in front of him.
Nathan couldn’t speak. He could only thrash his wings, confused that he had wings to begin with. He still knew himself as a man, yet this bird form didn’t feel wrong. He opened his beak slightly in threat. He didn’t trust this man who claimed to be his father, even though the last few minutes told him Nemglan’s claim was probably accurate.
“Don’t worry. You’re through the portal. We lost him. The threat is over, for now.” Nemglan spoke softly, obviously attempting to calm him. His shoulder was dripping blood in a lazy stream; it smelled shockingly appetizing to Nathan, his senses changed and new.
Nathan wasn’t sure what to think. He flapped some more and let out a “caw” that didn’t feel proper at all. When would he change back? Would he change back? He strutted, fretfully, keeping an eye on Nemglan, who stood several paces away, clutching Nathan’s bag.
“I know what you need.” Nemglan’s eyes glittered in the twilit forest. “You need to feel safe. Well, we’re a long way from home, but I do know one place we could go.”
###
Thanks for stopping by! Remember, this is a blog hop!
');
October 30, 2013
Samhain Born: A Free Short Story to Celebrate Samhain
Alana has always seen spirits, but after her parents death they are her only company. Lonely and hungry, she seeks out the spirits on Samhain night – her seventeenth birthday – hoping that on this night they can tell her the purpose her second sight serves.
Samhain Born
When Alana went to the ancient hawthorn tree by the river just before midnight on her seventeenth birthday, All Hallows’ Eve, she knew what she was doing. With a whispered prayer for forgiveness, Alana trimmed a lower branch from the tree, and swept the ground beneath the crown of its branches with the severed limb. She went counter clockwise, around and around, saying the nonsensical words the hedge witch had made her memorize. Finally spent, she sank to the earth and rested, her hands palm up on her knees and the river running at her back. No spirits could approach from that direction, and Alana could see the other approaches well.
This is why she had come. To call the spirits and hear what they wanted from her once and for all.All her life, Alana had heard things, seen things, that others didn’t see. There had to be a purpose to it. But no one would talk to Alana about these things, they never had and they never would. When her parents were still alive, they’d encouraged her silence, but since their death, Alana found she couldn’t keep silent any longer. Her difference kept her apart. She had to know more to understand how she could live with it, and hopefully not be alone her entire life.
Alana shivered in the chill autumn wind, giving thanks it hadn’t rained. Her mother's old cloak was worn, and she didn’t know where she’d find coin for another one. Her farm income had dried up since her parents’ death. Folk had nearly stopped buying milk, butter, and eggs from her. Now they knew she’d touched the food, where they’d been able to ignore it before if the price was good enough.
Even earlier today she’d been undecided, unsure whether she could carry out the radical plan that had occurred to her a few days ago. She’d checked her assumptions with the local hedge witch, an unfortunate association of her aunt’s who was also the only neighbor still speaking with her anymore. Alana was sure her plan would work – but did she truly want it to?
Yes. She had to change something. Had to do something.
If the people weren’t willing to talk about her second sight, maybe the spirits would have something to tell her. What did she have to lose? She may as well be the witch the townsfolk called her – she had to eat somehow.
A rustling snap drew Alana’s attention. She couldn’t see anything, and silently cursed the dark, and then herself for her silliness. Of course it was dark. She’d come at nearly midnight on All Hallows’ Eve, the night when the veil between worlds parted and the dead came home again. What was she thinking?
Adrenaline surged through her as another footstep – undeniable this time – sounded yet closer. Alana started to inch back, but stopped herself. She’d swept in a circle, as the old hedge witch had told her, and she couldn’t move from her place without undoing the spell.
Alana gathered her nerve. She’d come here for a reason.
“Who are you?” That wasn’t even what she wanted to know, but it was a start. “Why can I see what’s to come? Why are you haunting me?”
A raspy groan emerged from the direction of Alana’s midnight visitor. Despite her intention to sit still, Alana scooted backward in alarm, only remembering the river when she felt the cold water at her fingertips.
A firm border – spirits couldn’t cross running water. Feeling more confident, Alana tried to make out the shape in the shadows. But she could see so little; it had yet to step from beneath the trees.
“What is it, do you think?” The whisper in Alana’s ear made the hair on her neck stand up, and Alana slowly turned to face this new intruder.
A tall, lithe woman with skin so pale it nearly glowed in the moonlight and huge, wide set eyes, met her appraisal. She raised a pale, arched brow and spoke again, louder this time. “What do you think you’ve called, Alana?”
“The water. You shouldn’t be able to cross the water.” It was a stupid thing to say. The creature had crossed the water – was standing ankle deep in it right now – so her brain being stuck on this particular detail wasn’t particularly helpful.
“Nah,” the otherworldly lady said, her tone scolding Alana for such a thought. “Water does not affect me. I play in it; I dance in it and swim, diving to the deepest depths, Alana. I am at home in the water. I am not a ghost or a spirit or a ghoul.”
Alana didn’t ask what she was. She wouldn’t ask.
The strange being turned, her profile lovely in the moon’s soft radiance. Alana gasped. For suddenly she knew whom she addressed.
“Are you the fairy queen?”
She whirled to face Alana. She giggled. A soft sound at first, it grew to a tinkling of a hundred bells, seeming to ring from all around. “You are so sweet, Alana. No, among my kind I possess only an inkling of power. I am no queen.”
Alana inclined her head, unsure what she could say that wouldn’t draw the fairy’s ire. That’s what she was; she hadn’t denied that part.
The fairy said nothing of her name, and Alana would not intrude by asking.
“What are you doing out here tonight, Alana? I do not believe you to be a witch, though you use a hedge witch’s spell. It was something else that called me here tonight.”
Alana’s breath hitched as she considered the fairy with wide eyes. Could her hopes be coming to fruition? Did the fairy understand what she was?
Another groan brought Alana’s attention back to whatever had been about to step from the woods. She still couldn’t see what it was, and she strained to make out the shape from the shadow. The fairy chuckled, and Alana was sure her glee was directed at Alana’s focus on the edge of the trees. But she couldn’t look away from the thing that would step from the woods.
Alana cringed as a foot stepped into a spot of moonlight, splattered with dark matter that was probably mud, but looked more like blood to Alana at the moment. A stained trouser leg followed, and now Alana could tell that the creature moved with jolting, awkward motions. She had the grotesque feeling it was animated, and not alive. Is this what she’d done with her spell? Had the hedge witch known this would happen? Alana couldn’t believe it was the case – the woman had been close to her aunt and Alana doubted she’d betray the family this way.
Maybe this had happened because of who cast the spell. Alana looked down at her hands.
Beside her, the fairy hissed as the creature stepped more fully into the light, displaying gruesomely decayed flesh, with one arm ripped to shreds. It was a corpse, its eyes still dead as the day it was buried. How it moved was beyond Alana.
The fairy woman turned to her, eyes glittering in the deep of night. “Who are you?” The question was part mocking; it was exactly the question she’d asked the corpse when it first shuffled toward her. But it also held a note of true curiosity. Alana shuddered with fear to be the focus of that attention from a fairy. If she hadn’t been doomed before, this night’s events had sealed the deal.
“I’m no one. Just a girl…” Alana drew a deep breath. “Except...I have the sight,” she whispered.
The fairy’s eyes grew wide. “You. You’re Samhain born!”
“I...it’s my birthday, yes.”
“And that’s how you have the sight. And why the ghoul you see before you isn’t approaching any closer. If you were anyone else, he’d be trying to eat your brains right now. Instead, he shuffles as though he cannot see you. Aren’t you lucky.”
Something in her tone told Alana not to count her luck so fast. “I don’t understand. Is that why I can see them?”
“See them? What do you mean?”
“I’ve always seen spirits – ghosts. But not all of them.”
The fairy was silent for a moment, and when Alana looked at her, she found her gaze almost kind. “You could not see your parents?”
Alana gulped in a breath. She didn’t want to talk about this...but who was she kidding? Of course she wanted to talk about it, and who better to talk with than a fairy who would soon disappear, if Alana was lucky, and leave her to her miserable life.
“No, I couldn’t see them. It was the first time I ever tried, but I couldn’t make it happen.”
“That’s a good thing.”
Alana narrowed her eyes at the unnamed fairy. “How can you say that?”
“Well...It means they were happy. Satisfied with life. They left the world in peace. Isn’t that what you would have wanted for them?”
Alana didn’t speak. She couldn’t bring herself to think of wanting anything to do with her parents’ death.
The ghoul was still shuffling around under the hawthorn tree, apparently unaware of their conversation. It wasn’t scary now. It wasn’t a threat at all.
“So the ghosts...I see them because of my birthday?” She tried to wrap her head around this new way of understanding it.
“It’s a gift. You’re lucky. Doubly so since I thought I’d found a new slave.”
“What do you mean?”
The unnamed fairy laughed. “I can’t take you to my world. You’d cause chaos. It is an old, old place, and the spirits are many and strong. Samhain born! I still can’t believe it. My people will be glad to know of you.”
Alana shook her head. “I don’t even know what you’re talking about.”
“You will come to understand. They won’t leave you alone until you do.”
That didn’t make any sense, and Alana turned to tell the fairy so –
To find she’d gone. Vanished. The river swept on by, rippling over its rocky bed...and other than that, the night was silent.
###
I hope you enjoyed this short story! Have a great Samhain, or Halloween, or Harvest, or whatever you celebrate! :)
October 27, 2013
Sunday Update: Chaos, I Tell You!
Um...hi. It's been an interesting week. I scored virtually zero on the word count meter (I added just 900 new words of fiction this week -- blah!), but I kicked butt in several other areas, so I'll take it!
I've been working on the blurb for Descent, the book I'll publish in the next couple of weeks.
I also got back into Chaos Calling, the second book in my Foulweather Twins fantasy trilogy. My friend Stacey Wallace Benefiel mentioned in an interview last week that the second book in a series is the hardest -- and I'm so glad she said that! I've felt like I was floundering with this since the middle of August. I have 50,000 words written, but for some reason have NOT been able to make myself write the rest. I need to get it written, because I'd really like to publish it within a year of the first book, which means by February 2014.
This week, with Descent off to beta readers and out of my hands for the moment, I went back in for a fresh look at my fantasy novel in progress. One day I made a lot of notes, and even added to the outline for the third book, trying to get a good sense of what remains to be done. A different day I went back through and listed the scenes that still need major work. There are only 11! Seven of those need to be written, and four need significant revisions or additions. But that isn't bad AT ALL!! I'm very pleased. And now that I've taken a fresh look, it's time to check these scenes off one at a time until I'm there. I love having a roadmap -- it prevents stalling. :)
In other news, I read a great post a few days ago by Susan Kaye Quinn, a wonderful indie author with great resources and a wealth of advice over at her blog. This particular post was on the stages of the author life, and it really hit home with me. We each have our journey, and our individual style, goals, etc. To the best of our ability, we should strive to address that which is in our control, and IGNORE that which is not in our control. IMHO. :)
In the final tidbit for the week, I'm planning a MEGA-FREE promotion next week from Nov. 2nd through Nov. 6th. For five days the first THREE books in my fae-filled paranormal romance series will be free on Amazon. After that, they're no longer going to be exclusive; I'll get them back up on all e-retailers the second week of November. If anyone has space on their blog next week, I'd love a little help with promoting my MEGA-FREE event. See my last post for more on that.
Best of luck in the coming week, ROWers, and have a happy Halloween!
I've been working on the blurb for Descent, the book I'll publish in the next couple of weeks.
I also got back into Chaos Calling, the second book in my Foulweather Twins fantasy trilogy. My friend Stacey Wallace Benefiel mentioned in an interview last week that the second book in a series is the hardest -- and I'm so glad she said that! I've felt like I was floundering with this since the middle of August. I have 50,000 words written, but for some reason have NOT been able to make myself write the rest. I need to get it written, because I'd really like to publish it within a year of the first book, which means by February 2014.
This week, with Descent off to beta readers and out of my hands for the moment, I went back in for a fresh look at my fantasy novel in progress. One day I made a lot of notes, and even added to the outline for the third book, trying to get a good sense of what remains to be done. A different day I went back through and listed the scenes that still need major work. There are only 11! Seven of those need to be written, and four need significant revisions or additions. But that isn't bad AT ALL!! I'm very pleased. And now that I've taken a fresh look, it's time to check these scenes off one at a time until I'm there. I love having a roadmap -- it prevents stalling. :)
In other news, I read a great post a few days ago by Susan Kaye Quinn, a wonderful indie author with great resources and a wealth of advice over at her blog. This particular post was on the stages of the author life, and it really hit home with me. We each have our journey, and our individual style, goals, etc. To the best of our ability, we should strive to address that which is in our control, and IGNORE that which is not in our control. IMHO. :)
In the final tidbit for the week, I'm planning a MEGA-FREE promotion next week from Nov. 2nd through Nov. 6th. For five days the first THREE books in my fae-filled paranormal romance series will be free on Amazon. After that, they're no longer going to be exclusive; I'll get them back up on all e-retailers the second week of November. If anyone has space on their blog next week, I'd love a little help with promoting my MEGA-FREE event. See my last post for more on that.
Best of luck in the coming week, ROWers, and have a happy Halloween!
October 26, 2013
The Children of the Sidhe MEGA-FREE Event Coming Soon!
I've decided to get out of KDP select by the end of the year, but before I go…
The Children of the Sidhe MEGA-FREE event! From November 2nd through 6th you can get the first three titles in my Children of the Sidhe series free on Amazon.
You can read excerpts from these books by visiting the "paranormal romance books" page of this blog, but I'll give you a little teaser here.
Children of the Sidhe
The Sidhe dwindle. Slow to breed and quick to war, the ages have worn away their numbers. An old enemy threatens Otherworld, fearsome in numbers and in newfound magic. The Sidhe’s unloved part-human children strewn about the mortal world are suddenly their greatest source of hope.
Please share with readers of sexy, action-packed paranormal romance! Happy reading!
The Children of the Sidhe MEGA-FREE event! From November 2nd through 6th you can get the first three titles in my Children of the Sidhe series free on Amazon.
You can read excerpts from these books by visiting the "paranormal romance books" page of this blog, but I'll give you a little teaser here.
Children of the Sidhe
The Sidhe dwindle. Slow to breed and quick to war, the ages have worn away their numbers. An old enemy threatens Otherworld, fearsome in numbers and in newfound magic. The Sidhe’s unloved part-human children strewn about the mortal world are suddenly their greatest source of hope.
Please share with readers of sexy, action-packed paranormal romance! Happy reading!
October 20, 2013
Sunday Update: Descent to Beta Readers
Thanks to hubby's help and a fall festival at a local nursery, I had the house all to myself for a few hours yesterday. I tackled the remaining edits on Descent, the fourth Children of the Sidhe novella, and shipped it off to beta readers. Finally!!
Over the course of the week, I wrote 3,300 words on pseudonym projects, adding to the storyline I'm already publishing in episodes, and beginning a new story that's been bouncing around my brain.
I have an overactive idea maker. :) A couple of weeks ago -- when I got sick and then my husband and one of the girls came down with it right after that, leading to ten days of the miserable -- about the only thing I did accomplish was solidifying two new story ideas for Delilah Vane, the teen-paranormal-focused pseudonym I started in August. I'm not concerned about writing a lot of these stories at the moment, just getting the plot down. I don't plan to publish anything new from Delilah until I'm out of KDP Select and have the My Undead Life serial available at other retailers.
The 3,300 words I wrote this week is better than last week's 2,000 and change....but still not up to my goal of 4k of new fiction each week. And with all of these story ideas, I need to get moving! :) However, it's going to be another MAJOR week at work, and I always struggle with writing fiction when I'm in the middle of a big non-fiction writing project. I'm hoping this week I'll be able to perform at both. Here goes!
Happy writing and have a great week, ROWers!
Over the course of the week, I wrote 3,300 words on pseudonym projects, adding to the storyline I'm already publishing in episodes, and beginning a new story that's been bouncing around my brain.I have an overactive idea maker. :) A couple of weeks ago -- when I got sick and then my husband and one of the girls came down with it right after that, leading to ten days of the miserable -- about the only thing I did accomplish was solidifying two new story ideas for Delilah Vane, the teen-paranormal-focused pseudonym I started in August. I'm not concerned about writing a lot of these stories at the moment, just getting the plot down. I don't plan to publish anything new from Delilah until I'm out of KDP Select and have the My Undead Life serial available at other retailers.
The 3,300 words I wrote this week is better than last week's 2,000 and change....but still not up to my goal of 4k of new fiction each week. And with all of these story ideas, I need to get moving! :) However, it's going to be another MAJOR week at work, and I always struggle with writing fiction when I'm in the middle of a big non-fiction writing project. I'm hoping this week I'll be able to perform at both. Here goes!
Happy writing and have a great week, ROWers!
October 16, 2013
Mid-Week Update: The Juggle, and Defining Success
The last month has been brutal at work, and my fiction writing has definitely suffered for it. I just completed one major project (for the quarter), but I'm the primary author on a report due in a couple of weeks, so I'll likely be waking at night thinking about youth in the labor force, not my fiction. It's a very interesting topic; tons to explore, and not much time to do it. (Not to mention the Census website has been down due to the Federal shutdown, so gathering data has been an extra challenge...for my teammates. I get to focus on pulling it all together.) I am blessed to have a day job that's fun most of the time, and plenty challenging. Occasionally, that means I let fiction slip for a few weeks.
I'm going to bring up something that's been on my mind lately as I surf the Interwebs, chatting with and reading posts from other authors:
What is with one-size-fits-all definitions of success? or failure? I'm downright tired of the idea that if I don't make my living with my books, I'm not a success. SAYS WHO?? People are SO FULL OF IT.
There is no definition of success. For indie publishing specifically, a single metric would be completely useless with the incredibly wide variety of hard-working, talented folks who've ventured into self-publishing -- not to mention the flood of people who should have thought twice before hitting "publish." I don't want to make a few hundred bucks and call myself a "professional writer," thank you. And I'm not interested in foisting another crappy book on readers every six weeks. That is NOT my definition of success.
If you want to feel bad because you haven't sold as many books as Joe Konrath or Amanda Hocking, go ahead. But leave me out of it. I didn't come here to get rich and famous, folks. I'm an indie author because I have stories to tell, and people reading them is just THE. BEST. FEELING. EVER.
Let me be honest with you -- I don't know if I'm cut out to count on a writing income. Even if my books were doing very well, I am not certain I could leave the security of my day job. So this "making my living from writing" definition really doesn't work for me.
My point is…don't let the loudmouths out there hijack your definition of success. That is in your power to define.
What is my definition of success, for my writing career? Here we go:I write fiction on more days than not.I finish what I start.I polish until my work shines.I publish what I finish.Have a great week, ROWers and other friends!
I'm going to bring up something that's been on my mind lately as I surf the Interwebs, chatting with and reading posts from other authors:
What is with one-size-fits-all definitions of success? or failure? I'm downright tired of the idea that if I don't make my living with my books, I'm not a success. SAYS WHO?? People are SO FULL OF IT.
There is no definition of success. For indie publishing specifically, a single metric would be completely useless with the incredibly wide variety of hard-working, talented folks who've ventured into self-publishing -- not to mention the flood of people who should have thought twice before hitting "publish." I don't want to make a few hundred bucks and call myself a "professional writer," thank you. And I'm not interested in foisting another crappy book on readers every six weeks. That is NOT my definition of success.
If you want to feel bad because you haven't sold as many books as Joe Konrath or Amanda Hocking, go ahead. But leave me out of it. I didn't come here to get rich and famous, folks. I'm an indie author because I have stories to tell, and people reading them is just THE. BEST. FEELING. EVER.
Let me be honest with you -- I don't know if I'm cut out to count on a writing income. Even if my books were doing very well, I am not certain I could leave the security of my day job. So this "making my living from writing" definition really doesn't work for me.
My point is…don't let the loudmouths out there hijack your definition of success. That is in your power to define.
What is my definition of success, for my writing career? Here we go:I write fiction on more days than not.I finish what I start.I polish until my work shines.I publish what I finish.Have a great week, ROWers and other friends!
October 13, 2013
Sunday Update: Slow Start
I hope all of you other writers had a better start to this round than I did. But honestly, with how work has been and editing Brooke Jackson's novel, I'm glad I put down at least a little word count this week.
I chalked up 2,000 words since Monday, and about 1,000 words of plotting on a couple of pseudonym stories I'll write in 2014. My goal is 4,000 words of new fiction each week. I don't count the plotting words as fiction written; to me, that's prep for writing. I have so many stories in the works -- and thanks to the spigot refusing to shut in my brain, I'm always coming up with new ones. I need to be writing these stories so they can get out of my head and into the bright light of day. So…4,000 words of new fiction each week. I will do it this week.
Brooke gave me back edits on Descent last week -- and I haven't had the mental space to sit back down with that book. I'll FOR SURELY get to that this week, and move it on to beta readers. :) I will publish it in a few weeks, when it's ready. Cover reveal to come, soon.
Onward!! Have a great week, folks!
I chalked up 2,000 words since Monday, and about 1,000 words of plotting on a couple of pseudonym stories I'll write in 2014. My goal is 4,000 words of new fiction each week. I don't count the plotting words as fiction written; to me, that's prep for writing. I have so many stories in the works -- and thanks to the spigot refusing to shut in my brain, I'm always coming up with new ones. I need to be writing these stories so they can get out of my head and into the bright light of day. So…4,000 words of new fiction each week. I will do it this week.
Brooke gave me back edits on Descent last week -- and I haven't had the mental space to sit back down with that book. I'll FOR SURELY get to that this week, and move it on to beta readers. :) I will publish it in a few weeks, when it's ready. Cover reveal to come, soon.
Onward!! Have a great week, folks!
October 9, 2013
Indie Life: Be Flexible
Hello to all of my indie author friends! The time has come around for another Indie Life post -- a chance for independent authors to exchange tips, offer encouragement and chat about all the crazy components of indie author life.
I missed Indie Life last month because I was in Kona, Hawaii, having a wonderful (if a bit crowded w/ 15 family members) vacation. It was a blast! I didn't do a lick of writing while away. Not a single key pressed. Awesome, eh?
This brings me to what I want to talk about today, because it is one of the most crucial things to remember, for me at least. :)
FLEXIBILITY
There. I said it.
Our indie author paths are our own. There's no road map here, people. Anyone who tells you they know exactly how to do this is lying, or out of touch. So much has changed in the past two years as I've set my indie author course -- we are living in a new world of publishing. And who knows what new developments the next couple of years will bring.
Be flexible; think ahead; and keep on moving.
Roadblocks will also crop up. I had one hit me last month, when the cover artist I'd been working with since 2011 let me know she was no longer doing custom covers. It forced a decision I'd been putting off, hoping I wouldn't have to worry about it until 2014. When the roadblock occurred, I HAD to deal with it before I could get back to the parts of this gig that I really love.
So, I flipped the switch, dove in, and emerged with new covers for my romance series, and probably a whole new blog look before the end of the year. Awesome! Now I won't have to make those decisions in 2014.
I'm glad I didn't find a patch fix to get me through…sometimes you have to be FLEXIBLE.
What I really wanted to do when I returned from Hawaii was finish and publish a book -- but the book and series are stronger for the time spent finding a new artist and having new covers made. Now I have covers in hand for the final book in the series, and the omnibus edition that will bring all five novellas together. Kellie Dennis, at Book Cover by Design, was SUPER to work with, and I highly recommend her if you're looking for a cover artist.
Best of luck with the fall season, writers! Take care!
And remember…this is a blog hop!
I missed Indie Life last month because I was in Kona, Hawaii, having a wonderful (if a bit crowded w/ 15 family members) vacation. It was a blast! I didn't do a lick of writing while away. Not a single key pressed. Awesome, eh?
This brings me to what I want to talk about today, because it is one of the most crucial things to remember, for me at least. :)
FLEXIBILITY
There. I said it.
Our indie author paths are our own. There's no road map here, people. Anyone who tells you they know exactly how to do this is lying, or out of touch. So much has changed in the past two years as I've set my indie author course -- we are living in a new world of publishing. And who knows what new developments the next couple of years will bring.
Be flexible; think ahead; and keep on moving.
Roadblocks will also crop up. I had one hit me last month, when the cover artist I'd been working with since 2011 let me know she was no longer doing custom covers. It forced a decision I'd been putting off, hoping I wouldn't have to worry about it until 2014. When the roadblock occurred, I HAD to deal with it before I could get back to the parts of this gig that I really love.
So, I flipped the switch, dove in, and emerged with new covers for my romance series, and probably a whole new blog look before the end of the year. Awesome! Now I won't have to make those decisions in 2014.
I'm glad I didn't find a patch fix to get me through…sometimes you have to be FLEXIBLE.
What I really wanted to do when I returned from Hawaii was finish and publish a book -- but the book and series are stronger for the time spent finding a new artist and having new covers made. Now I have covers in hand for the final book in the series, and the omnibus edition that will bring all five novellas together. Kellie Dennis, at Book Cover by Design, was SUPER to work with, and I highly recommend her if you're looking for a cover artist.
Best of luck with the fall season, writers! Take care!
And remember…this is a blog hop!
October 6, 2013
Round of Words Goals Post: Fall 2013 Has Arrived
It's time for another fall with Round of Words in 80 Days, the writing challenge that knows you have a life. At the moment, that's definitely true -- I don't seem to have time to think, much less write a decent post…so I'll get right to it and leave the quips for later. :)
I have two goals this round:
1) Publish Descent, the fourth novella in my Children of the Sidhe series. It is on its way -- to be out within the next few weeks. Super excited about that!
2) Write at least 4,000 words of new fiction each week. I have several running projects, including:Finish writing Chaos Calling, the sequel to Queen Witch. I'm only about 10k away from completing this novel, so I should finish it in October.Write Shield, the final installment in the Children of the Sidhe series.Write and publish episodes for pseudonym serial project.
Welcome back, folks! Let's kick some word count butt! :)
I have two goals this round:
1) Publish Descent, the fourth novella in my Children of the Sidhe series. It is on its way -- to be out within the next few weeks. Super excited about that!
2) Write at least 4,000 words of new fiction each week. I have several running projects, including:Finish writing Chaos Calling, the sequel to Queen Witch. I'm only about 10k away from completing this novel, so I should finish it in October.Write Shield, the final installment in the Children of the Sidhe series.Write and publish episodes for pseudonym serial project.
Welcome back, folks! Let's kick some word count butt! :)
